Master of the House
by Luc Court
Summary: Spoilers for Akio and Anthy. A old and short piece from Akio POV about his sister and the search for revolution.


_Master of the House_

_Court:_ 6.10.02:  
Note: This might have been a decent fic, but it got started sometime in early 2001 and just never got finished. So here it is, horrible and unedited and rambling.  
  
From Akio POV, spoilers of Revolutionary Girl Utena up to and including the last season. 

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These days, I can't stand it when she smiles.  


Once, I know, when I was bright and shining and saved people from what I now enact, I loved only that radiant look, that blossoming of joy more fragile than the flowers in her hands. Now I claw at the castle for the same things which draw other people to fight for it. Never do they know they but fight for me to regain what I have lost.

It is only fair that they learn to give a little back, to pay their time for taking far more than their share before. I could break generations of these brats across my thigh, teach them to lick cream from my fingers and beg for the honor of my feet, and it might only then begin to be fair for what they and their lineage have asked from us. Their brooding play-princesses who demanded to be saved while the real one remained mute, their squealing cries of need so long as it came from another.  


Perhaps, once I have regained my strength, I will be generous enough to give a little of their dreams to them after all.  


But not now. Now is filled by the stories we both make for these children in the hopes that they will grant us both what we rightfully should have. What we should have had all along, but for the selfishness of the world to destroy two creatures who only wanted another's pain to end. We've learned that lesson well, we who were lofty and then crippled by base cravings of those too selfish to enact a change of their own doing. They pled to us and we listened. They pled to us and took all and more, gave us back only their own blame out of an unwillingness to pay even that.

Because my sister dared speak against them, she could never be a princess in their texts; she is _witch, bitch,_ and worse for crossing their greed. Unlike me, she loves her permission now to sin. I wonder if it is spite and kept for whom inside her as I keep her in turn. Pin her arms behind her back as I demand the answer, tilt her head up, and she only gives me a glassy smile of refusal.  


I need her, while she chooses only to need me back when it suits her. She knows.   


And that look she has, that look which makes me want to hold her down and wrestle it off of her, which is not from kindness but from the mockery that she can be so unstained even after being passed through the pits. She can remain untouched. Even while she accepts Sayonji's dominance, even while she has been toyed with by Touga. I can see it in her eyes, which are mirrors of my own, just as she is a mirror of who I am. Only still pure.  


I can see it in her eyes and she laughs at me, I who does not have the strength that she does. I cannot lose myself in the quest for miracles and shining things. I am Akio, the Fallen One, and I bend others to fit me instead. While she laughs, and laughs, and then chimes words of obedience and sweetness.

It may be revenge against taking the blame for me back then that causes her to put it all back upon me now.  


How low I must be in her eyes.   


I want to break that out of her. Or break the world, which fills her body with steel and hilt, not with the warm muscle and blood I try to fool myself into believing I feel when I take her in my arms. It hates her for what she did to me, even though I have long lost sorrow for whatever dull memory of Dios once lived. I know how she dances on razors with every light step.   


I want to hold her again and not feel her skin bulging in the pulse of blades fighting to dismember her from within. I want to free her from the cycle of being used by these cheap duelists who think the world begins and ends with roses scented of me. All that was lost will be found. There will be a way to survive, we broken birds who have been supporting each other in the hopes to fly, and I want to find it.  


I want to beat the mockery out from her smile until it is honest again. For that, I will continue to seek my revolution.


End file.
